


After Dinner

by AvrielleRogue



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alcohol, Biting, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Grinding, Riding, Sex, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2014-07-05
Packaged: 2018-02-07 12:46:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1899549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvrielleRogue/pseuds/AvrielleRogue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris gets a little frisky after some fine Tevinter red. Written for a prompt about biting, riding, and grinding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After Dinner

Hawke was humming softly as she cleaned too-fancy dishware in the dank kitchen’s washbasin. Even in the dim light, and without a good dusting in years, the opulence of the room shown through. When schedules allowed, she enjoyed making a meal for Fenris, splitting a bottle of excellent Tevinter wine, and waiting on him hand and foot.

Fenris always protested in the beginning, squirming sideways in the chair, uncomfortable with any actions shown to him resembling servitude. But once the second or third glass was poured and the warm calmness descended upon them, he quieted a bit, drinking in the sight of his lover more deeply than the flavorful red on the table.

She sensed Fenris behind her, bringing the last of the silver trays into the kitchen, and felt his hips first, crashing softly into her backside as she washed. Emitting a small cry of apology, she first thought she had backed into him. When his rough hands clasped around her hipbones and drew her back into his frame roughly, a wicked smile spread across her face. This was no accident.

She moved to spin towards him, to take his mouth in her own, but his strong hands held her still, one snaking across the plains of her hips, the other plunging upwards between her swollen breasts. Fenris nuzzled his head into the crook of her neck and nibbled softly. Hawke threw her head back with a moan, and he bore down more savagely. The prick of sensual pain set her heart beating wildly, and she spun around, grasping the sides of his face to taste remnants of oaky merlot on his lips. She curled her tongue around his, matching it to the undulating motion of her hips. He always got her going so early. They were both wearing far too much clothing for the urgency surging through her veins.

The rogue slid her hand down the front of Fenris’ leathers, expertly working at the laces. Fenris refused to let their lips part as he walked slowly backwards. With a rough grip raking his fingertips down her spine, he led them back towards the lavish dining table. When Hawke succeeded nimbly freeing Fenris’ thickening passion from his breeches, she was all too eager to sink herself around him, itching for him to fill her completely. She ground her hips against his and slid aside one leg of her smalls under the soft tartan skirt before pushing his chest back, laying him backwards on the table.

A bit clumsy from the wine, Hawke mounted Fenris on the table, her knees pushing apart their dusty dinner mats. Her dark eyes searched his for any hint of fear or hesitance. He preferred being the one on top, the one in control. She never asked why and he never offered. But she needed to know she was reading his urgency without crossing a line.

The moment lasted a beat too long, and from beneath her, the elf snarled with desire, grasping her bottom roughly to draw her towards him. At the last moment careening towards him, Hawke reached a hand between her legs and guided Fenris into her. He plunged effortlessly within her, stretching her with a sudden gratification that had her screaming his name.

The elf squeezed his legs tight as she rode him, grinding her sensitive bundle of nerves along his taught center with every deep sheathing. Hawke grasped Fenris’ chest, arching her back and relishing in the perfect angles of his body, hitting her core within as if their forms were molded in perfection for this exact coupling. When the elf brought his legs up to the edge of the table to pump his hips upwards into her, all conscious thought went blank in her mind. All that remained was the rhythmic ecstasy, the vibrating urgency thrumming through her muscles, taut as a bowstring, signaling that she was seconds from the edge. 

Hawke squeezed her own insides tight around Fenris, and the sensation was all he could take. With a guttural groan that lit a fire inside, he spurted within her. She continued pumping, milking him for just a few seconds more before the pressure within reached its breaking point. The wave of delirium washed over her as fireworks burst behind her eyelids. For a few moments more, Hawke persisted her ride until neither of them could take another instant of heightened sensation.

When she collapsed back on the hard wood beside her lover, Fenris leaned over to take her face in his hand and taste her sweet lips once more before joining her side, both staring silently at the dark ornate ceiling.


End file.
